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Description
George Chase fell in love with one of the scholars in the school but decides to let it go. He talks about the Convention in Hartford and shares poetry about avoiding the women of East Windsor
Date
1-1-1815
Recommended Citation
Chase, George, "Letter to Intrepid Morse" (1815). Philander Chase Letters. 163.
https://digital.kenyon.edu/chase_letters/163
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Ware-house Point East Windsor January. 1. 1815 Sunday morning
With a heart warmed by recollection of past years when we were together united by friendship I this day wish you a happy new year. May our future lives flow on more calm and unruffled than they has been—alas! I would not live over my life again and go through all the disagreeable scenes I have, for nothing—For no earthly considerations. Still I have enjoyed many a pleasant hours with [?] my friend—which I look back upon with pleasure the purist. The sun arose today in unclouded magesty [sic] diffusing warmth to this cold [dime]. The atmosphere is rather smoky — there is no snow—and everything conspires to make it pleasant and agreeable. Such a day somehow or other is very apt to make a person homesick!
Thus far for prologue. Do not think from the delay of my monthly epistolary communications any abatement of the fervent love I bear towards you, but attribute its tardiness to dearth of news of which you complain so much. And besides as I was going to Hartford to Christmas I know it would be acceptable to you to hear how were all our friends there. The Christmas was as usual celebrated at Hartford, and we had a very full church. The day was fine and many coming from a distance were obliged to go away not being able to obtain seats. Our family are well and waving the common troubles of life and the disagreeable situation of Clergyman—happy. By the above [expression] I would not have you think that the situation of Hartford is disagreeable—by no means. But wherever a clergyman may go he is always subjected to a crowd of scrutinizers who are continually on the watch to find fault with any thing he says or does. Alexander Chase was at Hartford [detained] by the melting of the snow from going home with Abigail. He visited me here once last Saturday and in crossing the river came very near drowning—-escaped however, with his horse and himself completely [?]. You will probably expect to hear something of the famous Convention at Hartford concerning which there has been so much talk. I have nothing further to say than that they keep clos’d doors and nobody knows what they are about. This conjectured however that they will do nothing which will promote a separation for you know in that case their interest would be destroyed. The Southerners being the producers and we the carriers. My adventures have been [few] nothing marvellous nothing interesting. My school comes on pretty well — I have 63 scholars a great many as old and older than myself. Being naturally of a communicative and open disposition I have prepared trouble for myself—but as yet have not been materially injured. To tell you in three words the character of this place to your full comprehension as it respects [tatlers] and busybodies— [Mouse] than Cheshire. Some stories which originated from some innocent liberties I took with two or three of my scholars—at one of their parties—determined me never to go to one again in this place which promise if you will I have most religiously kept. The lowries of East Windsor as you humorously term them enraged at my supposed desertion of them assailed me with all their artillery consisting of dimples, wimples, wag-tails (Bowden fashion) bosom bare be very good substitutes for bombs and cannon balls.
But all in vain — Like that [sallrock] on [Lapland’s] dreary shore,
Whose base the foaming billows ever beat,
[Bouid] by tempests from the frozen [poles]
Must be human who has the strength of mind,
Still to resist the charms of lovely woman — [?].
I have so nearly exhausted my little fund of [ideas] that I feel actually ashamed to send you back so poor a return for the affectionate letter you had the goodness to send me—which bye the bye I think is the best you have ever written, or rather the last always seems the best.
Friday January. Friday.6th— Put off till the last moment—the mail now going out until tomorrow I thought I had as good as [way]. But alas news [?]. The time still drags on heavily without any grand object to spur us on for [coaertion]. How various are the arts of man to hasten the flight of time—but when done regret they have not spent it better—from this [serap] of silly moralizing which I pray you excuse—for boys you know from 10 to 20 are wiser than at any other part of their lives and can preach better. I shall hasten with all possible speed—and come to the Point at once—aye Point—but to tell you the truth I have been [?] some time whether I should inform you of a very foolish—what! Why say fondness if you will, but have merely for the sake of electrifying you and laughing away your jaundice—[determined] after [mature] consideration—to inform you of it. One of my scholars a pretty girl of 20—had the address to win my poor weather beaten affections but took care to keep the secret from her. Your affectionate epistle came just in time to save me from impending destruction. Poor Morgan how I pity him, from the bottom of my heart! Well, well, says I, I have not written to her father yet! That’s one consolation—nor even whisper’d soft things to her—but alas those tell tale eyes! Mr Huse who kindly heard my moans soon laughed me out of it—and heroically, I determined after weighing matters [candidly] and fairly, to leave her as I found her—it lost me two nights rest—and even still I [feel] a wishful longing—but an aunt I will no more’ out. Thus far dear cousin—Pray congratulate [?] your [?] on my fiftieth escape—as you did sometime ago on my forty ninth from the fatal wiles of love. But really the young lady I speak of is eminently beautiful both in body and mind—perhaps I view her with a lovers eyes—enough! I had a letter a short time since from Philander at Brooklyn and he is pleasantly situated at [Col Putnams] family—the girls familiarly term his room Goblins hall. He laughs and enjoys the joke. Mr Fogg [?] rather unwell my dear Parsonic brother officials in his [?] reads prayers. Mr Lane a young lawyer has lately sat [?] an office in this place. He has a good library—I am [supplied] with books— Mr Muse sends her best love—and affection—of the new country in a following letter which shall be more expeditious than this. Yours [?] George.